before reading: possible SPOILER for ep. 50 or 51 in the last paragraph. If you're really uncomfortable with the thought of Hayate dying, death in general, leave now.
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Passing Hands :: by Aif
He had followed her for years, for lifetimes, and now it was ever more difficult to get up, walk by her side. Every faithful dog has his reward; for Black Hayate, taking care of Riza is enough.
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He was getting old.
Somewhere inside, Hayate knew, with the instinct that all animals had to forsee their death. When he was a puppy, nothing made him happier than to chase butterflies with that strange, blond smoking man; bound up and knock down the little soldier with the short hair and glasses that fell off; race the child with metal limbs across the grassy open spaces of Central's military.
Yesterday, he had slept too late; when he yawned and blinked his eyes open, Riza was gone. This was a new development, since he had found it necessary to sleep more hours during the night than his master. But as always, he ignored the twinge of betrayal, and trotted his way through the uncomfortable-smelling housing to the old office.
This morning, he had gotten lost on his way. He found himself in a strange room with strange people, and he couldn't think of a thing to do but whine, until one of the soliders noticed him and recognized him for his owner, and took him back where he belonged.
Then she had worried about him. She left her work with the loud, sharp man and picked him up, like she had never done, even when he had been a puppy. Then she talked more quietly and found a bristle brush to run through his fur, and she forgot her strict discipline, then and forever.
Hayate closed his eyes and slept in his master's arms.
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"Hayate! Still!"
"Oh, let him play, Lieutenant. He's just a puppy."
"That's no excuse for not enforcing discipline. What happens if you follow –that- rhetoric is that they grow up and were never used to follow orders, and then you end up with a mess like your subordinates."
"Like you're not one!"
Colonel Mustang would have teased her further, but Hayate sensed Riza's discomfort and barked, loudly; saw the man sitting on the ground by her feet, near the park bench; ran over and tugged on his pant leg. Not enough to seriously hurt- just enough to dislodge the clasp of his suspenders and pull down the blue pants.
Hayate whined a little when the soliders around them laughed, loud enough to hurt his ears. But he stood his ground and stared menacingly at the black-haired soldier, who was cursing and threateningly fumbling for his gloves.
He almost thought he would get punished, though he didn't know why. But then his master leaned her head down and scratched him behind his ears. She whispered,
"Good boy."
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She was at the new job, the one she had had for the past decade and the one that he knew that she disliked. When she talked of it with that man, Riza smelled like sadness and regret.
Hayate found those emotions around her most when she was around the old colonel, the one that people looked with while they exuded hatred, pity, misunderstanding and malevolent feelings. At first, he had tried to keep her from that man, but she told him some words that he didn't understand, and went to him anyway.
He perked up his ears when he heard voices at the door. Riza was coming home.
Hayate wanted to run to the door and welcome her; he wanted to, but something went wrong between the time he got up and the time he made it to the door. She came in through the door and her mouth went in an "o", and once again, uncharacteristically, she took him in her arms.
Behind them, a black-haired man closed the door, and looked at them with eyes of… empathy.
This was the man that had always moved too quickly, had a command that was too sharp, always smelled of old smoke and old fear. This was the man that was ill-suited to take care of his Riza, for he clashed badly with people since that day long ago that he had been hurt, and he had little influence.
Hayate didn't presume to understand Riza's choice in men, though. Whatever he thought of Mustang, it was what she thought of him that was important- and he was a good man. Behind the bad past that he carried, he had a very clear and straight-forward-looking heart. He wasn't usually gentle, but he was competent the way few humans were.
Most importantly, Riza was always with him, and he took care of her. Mustang took care of her the way Hayate had been starting to fail to take care of her… he would be there, Hayate sensed, long after he himself was gone.
That was good enough.
He had protected her for a long time that it hurt him to think of it. As they both grew older, he had seen her be nudged into another world, one where she could be content and she smiled more often.
The old colonel was the one who had nudged her there. And he was a good man.
Hayate nuzzled himself closer into Riza's arms. He yawned- had trouble with even that, now- and nudged her. She looked at him, with wide eyes, while he sniffed in the full smell of her trouble and her happiness. Hayate closed his eyes, and slept.
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"It's been a long time since we've been without him, hasn't it, Riza?"
She smiled a little. "Yes, it has."
Mustang leaned more heavily on his cane, and craned his head down to read the little gravestone. "What an honor to be the only dog buried in a military cemetery."
Riza made a small noise of disbelief. "It's an old, abandoned cemetery now, Roy," she said. "No one in this generation cares even for the old soldiers that are buried here. They're not going to notice if a few new graves are added."
"A –few-?"
"Well…"
Roy laughed. "I'm playing. We'll be buried here if they allow… even if they don't. I won't leave my old comrades behind me."
"Brigadier General Hughes," said Riza. "And… the widow Hughes. Second Lieutenant Fury… Lieutenant Ross… Warrant Officer Farman. Black Hayate."
"And the rest of the company," said Mustang. "No one has left. We'll all be here someday."
He put an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into his sturdy frame. They studied the little markstone for a while longer, and then moved on. They went to visit the other gravestones there- old friends, old soldiers… and one unmarked stone. The one that the former colonel had used the last of his influence to put there- the one for that lost boy that had been the catalyst for it all.
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Fin
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:: notes
I wasn't going to attempt any more FMA fiction for a while, but this just kind of fell out of the sky, and I felt like I had to do it. Everyone who knows how faithful a dog is, will understand.